


the taste of the moment

by black_queen (hotch_fan)



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: ... and then love, ... just kidding, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Developing Relationship, Dislike turned into some kind of friendship, First Meetings, Humor, I messed around with Tony's past A LOT, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pepper is the boss this time, Secret Identity, Secrets, Slow Build, Snark, Some Plot, Teasing, Tony's father is alive, so maybe Tony would be Robin, so there would be no Iron Man here, though Bruce is still going to be Batman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotch_fan/pseuds/black_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark ran away from home when he was sixteen. He's twenty-four now, lives in Gotham City under a fake name and has been working at a small coffee shop owned by Virginia Potts for the last few years. Then, enter Bruce Wayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Bruce gets free coffee thanks to Tony's antics

**+++**

Once again this morning was turning out to be one of those slow, tedious ones Tony _hated_ so much. It wasn't as bad as when he had first started working here, of course, but that did not help improve Tony's humor anyway.  
  
There were only a couple of customers inside now; a woman in her early thirties rummaging into her purse in one of the tables by the door, wearing a dark blue suit jacket that matched her skirt. The attire had clearly seen better days. Surely she worked as a secretary in one of the big buildings in the area. A man in his mid fifties wearing a suit that seemed as old as himself, sitting at the table in the corner, his hands fidgeting with his cup of coffee.  
  
It was kind of depressing, really.  
  
Pepper was sitting by the register, flipping through a magazine absently, lifting her gaze from time to time to look out the windows of the small coffee shop. Tony was standing behind the counter, relentlessly moving the buckets of coffee beans from a shelf to the other for something to do.  
  
" _Tony_." Pepper hissed softly, giving him a look.  
  
Tony tossed her a grin, shrugging.  
  
The tiny bell above the door chimed suddenly, making Tony sigh in relief as he turned around to greet -and maybe kiss passionately in gratitude- the new costumer. He blinked, freezing as soon as he saw who it was. By the almost collective gasp he heard, he wasn't the only one.  
  
The tall, dark-haired man walked into the coffee shop with a graceful and confident stride. He was dressed in an expertly tailored charcoal gray pinstripe suit matched with a burgundy silk tie. From the top of his perfectly coiffed silky hair to the tip of his shiny dark shoes he looked every bit the billionaire playboy the papers and TV made him to be.  
  
He was looking around the coffee shop as if entering a new, exotic word and Tony had no doubt that was _exactly_ how the man felt. The billionaire's lips were curled upward, curiosity gleaming in his hazel eyes. The mere sight of the man infuriated Tony.  
  
"Well, well, well. Looks like Gotham's very own prince have deigned to come _mingle_ with the commoners this fine morning."  
  
Tony heard Pepper's sharp inhale of breath and knew she was going to give him hell for this, but at the moment he couldn't make himself care. Maybe he would later. But right now, he watched Bruce Wayne turn slowly to meet his gaze, head tilted to the side.  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm not allowed here?"  
  
The expression on the man's face was puzzled, but Tony could almost _swear_ there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The _bastard_.  
  
"Of course not, Mr Wayne." Pepper said hastily as he came to stand besides Tony, an apologetic small smile on her face. "Please forgive Tony, he tends to make thoughtless remarks at the most inappropriate moments."  
  
Wayne flickered his gaze back to Tony for a moment, before nodding slowly. "It's fine."  
  
Tony kept glaring at the billionaire from behind his glasses, barely stopping himself from crossing his arms over his chest. There was _no way_ in hell he was going to apologize to this asshole. Much less serve him.  
  
"Thank you, Mr Wayne." Peeper said with an almost imperceptible shake of her voice. She obviously had picked up on Tony's attitude, even if the clueless playboy hadn't. "What can I get you?"  
  
The playboy smiled brightly at her. "A double espresso, please.."  
  
With a nod Pepper moved back to prepare the coffee, but not before shooting Tony a deep warning gaze.  
  
Wayne's hands were shoved inside of his pockets as he stood casually in front of the counter. There was a small frown that gave his face a more thoughtful look -which was just laughable, really- as he watched Tony, eyes tracing his face with a bit too much focus for a brainless playboy. Tony stood where he was, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything else. He could do this. For Pepper.  
  
"I'm sorry. Do I know you from somewhere?"  
  
He did. Of course, he did. Tony had made sure to change his appearance enough not to be recognized so easily; his hair was long enough to fall over his forehead now, he had grown a beard and put on a pair of glasses -and really, the fact such a simple disguise had worked so far was pathetic- but he knew it wouldn't have really fooled anyone who had not only seen him, but interacted with him. Which the man before him had on more than one occasion. Their parents moved in the same social circles, at least until the Waynes had been killed. Two small kids dragged to the same boring parties had of course been pushed together.  
  
Not that any of that matter.  
  
"Do you drive a lot around the outskirts of the Narrows?"  
  
Wayne blinked almost comically at Tony, brow furrowed. "Not really?"  
  
"Then I don't think we have." Tony replied plainly, shrugging.

Thankfully Pepper came back before he had been forced to bear anymore pointless small talk with the billionaire, and Tony stepped aside, more than happy to let Pepper handle the man.  
  
"Thank you," Wayne took the cup from her hands with a smile, placing it over the counter. "How much do I own you?"  
  
"Oh, it's nothing, Mr Wayne. Please consider it an apology for the rude welcome you received." Pepper shot Tony a pointed glare, her smile coming back as soon as she looked back at the billionaire.  
  
Wayne looked from Pepper to Tony with an unreadable expression. "Ah, that's not really necessary, Miss...?"  
  
"Potts. Virginia Potts."

"That's really not necessary, Miss Potts. I feel a very strong need to pay for your _excellent_ service. And what I'm sure would be a delicious coffee."  
  
Tony did cross his arms over his chest this time. The damn playboy was _flirting_ with Pepper. The jerk. The only thing stopping him from pounding the man to the floor was the acknowledgment Pepper was more than capable of taking care of herself. That, and the attention hitting the Wayne heir was bound to bring.  
  
"I _insist_ , Mr Wayne."  
  
Wayne looked at Pepper for a long time before nodding slowly, as if making a bit concession. "Very well. Thank you, Miss Potts." Wayne took his cup with a small nod to her, before turning to Tony. He met his gaze for a moment, nodding to him before turning around, walking out of the shop.  
  
Tony looked after him, brow furrowed deeply. He felt as if he had just missed a big piece of the puzzle by being unable to read the meaning behind that last look. He wasn't even sure which the puzzle here was.  
  
"What the hell were you thinking, Tony!?" Pepper demanded, effectively pulling him out of his scattered thoughts. He put on his most innocent look, smiling ruefully at her. That usually worked with her. _Sometimes_.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yet another AU with these two. What can I say? It seems like writing the first one only brought me more ideas. *shrug* Unlike with [your reflection inside of my eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1016384/chapters/2020333), I do have somewhat of a plot for this one, so let me know if you're interested in reading more!
> 
> Also, this is unbetaed so please feel free to point out any mistake.
> 
> The title was inspired from a phrase of the song "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls.


	2. Where Tony shows his restraint while dealing with Bruce

**+++**

It wasn't until about two weeks later that Bruce finally went back to the small coffee shop. With all the preparations he and Alfred were making for his eventual appearance in the streets and the slow and discrete moves he had started making to get Wayne Enterprise back he hadn't had the time to think about the very _peculiar_ man he had found there. At least not too much.  
  
It wasn't just the way the man had spoken to him, though Bruce had to admit a certain liking to it. It wasn't everyday someone looked at him straight in the eye and without hesitation treated him as anything other than the sole heir of one of the most ancient and wealthiest families of the city; like a God that couldn't be contradicted. He was so used to people waiting for him to turn his back to start talking that the interaction --as brief as it had been-- had had such an impact on him. It's what had made the meeting so... _refreshing_.  
  
That wasn't the only reason the man, _Tony_ , had captivated his attention, though. There was something else. Something... different about the man. Something Bruce hadn't been able to unravel just yet, no matter how hard he had tried. There was a- mystery, for lack of a better term, and he wasn't going to stop until he uncovered it.  
  
And that was the _only_ reason he came back to the coffee shop today. If nothing else, this could help him polish his investigative skills. And the coffee wasn't half bad, which was a plus.  
  
Bruce could feel eyes on him as he climbed out of the car and walked toward the glass doors of the small coffee shop. After years of anonymity, coming back to the fame; to all the attention the Wayne name brought him could be overwhelming sometimes. It didn’t seem to matter that he had spent most of his life in the spotlight before disappearing seven years ago.

He still missed it. The days when he could walk around the streets without anyone giving him a second glance. When people bumped against him instead of the way they parted out of his way wherever he went now.

Bruce shook his head, schooling his features back into his normal vapid expression before pulling the glass door of the coffee shop open and stepping inside. He scanned the place under a thinly veiled polite curiosity; letting a fleeting glimpse of disdain show on his face.

The warmly lit coffee shop wasn't crowded, but there were more people than the last time he had been here. It wasn't too strange given the hour.

He walked straight to the counter, ignoring yet again the looks aimed at him and the way conversations seemed to suspiciously die down as he passed by. With interest and an unexpected touch of satisfaction, Bruce noticed the flash of surprise that crossed the barista’s face briefly before being replaced by a frown. The petite redhead from last time, Miss Potts, was nowhere to be seen.

" _Wayne_. What are you doing here again?"  
  
Bruce blinked, coming to a stop in front of the counter and making a show of looking around the place. "Well, this is a coffee shop, right?"  
  
The man, Tony, glared at him, clearly unimpressed by his remark. "Pepper isn't here right now so you'll have to come back later if you're looking for more free coffee."  
  
Bruce heard the soft murmur of conversation rise behind him but he ignored it, dark eyebrows knitted together as he looked at Tony.  
  
"I wasn't aware that was a name. And who's Pepper?"  
  
Tony gave him an unamused look, barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes at him. "It isn't. And Pepper is the woman who gave you a free espresso last time you were here."  
  
"Ah. That would be Miss Potts, right?"  
  
The man didn't answer, looking at him warily. Well, he supposes it would seem _odd_ that he remembered the name of the owner of the small coffee shop he met two weeks ago.  
  
Bruce cleared his throat loudly. "Is there a way you could get me a cappuccino? W ith low fat milk, please. I do have the money to pay for it, I promise."

The soft sound of one of the other costumers in the coffee shop snorting at his words could be heard behind him. Bruce had half of a mind to turn around and see who it was but didn't. Instead, he focused on the barista’s reaction. The man behind the counter was scowling so deeply at him now that Bruce was half waiting to be kicked out of the shop any moment now.

Bruce waited. He had picked his words _carefully_ , looking for a reaction. And he was getting one. Though he wasn't sure if he should feel amused or annoyed about the possibility of unceremoniously being kicked out of here.

After a moment --and much to Bruce's surprise-- the man turned around without a word, starting to gather things to prepare the drink Bruce had asked for. He could feel the corners of his lips twitching upward, watching the man work. This was a pleasant surprise indeed.

It took just a couple of minutes for the man to turn around with the paper cup, sliding it across the counter in Bruce's direction without any flourish, his face impassive.  
  
Bruce smiled brightly, taking the cup and slowly lifting it to his lips to take a small sip of his cappuccino. Eyes closed, he hummed in appreciation. It wasn't quite as good as Alfred's --but then again, not even coffee from the most luxurious and exotic places was-- but it tasted good.

"Thank you. I really need caffeine to get through the day." Bruce took another sip before continuing. "Alfred's kind of worried about my caffeine intake, so he only let me have a cup this morning. It's a _nightmare_ , I tell you. And the coffee in the office is _awful_."  
  
"Who's Alfred?" Tony asked after a moment of silence. His curiosity clearly had won over his annoyance, Bruce noted with a hint of satisfaction. It was a Wayne trail, the ability to handle people just right. And very handy too.  
  
"Ah. He's my butler. Pretty much runs my life for me."

There was a flicker of something in the man's brown eyes. Gone as quickly as it had come, making it impossible for Bruce to identify what it had been, no matter how good he was at reading people. He narrowed his eyes at the man.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Tony struggled in an attempt to appear nonchalant. It didn't fool Bruce one bit. "I'm not the one having troubles with my butler, so."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't say it's a problem at all." Bruce waved his free hand dismissively, hiding his any trace of interest in the man's reaction behind a bright smile. "Alfred just likes to act like a mother hen sometimes."  
  
They fell into an awkward silence then. The man was clearly not interested in keeping the conversation going and Bruce wasn't exactly thrilled with the prospect of holding a one-sided conversation either.

"I'll tell you what," Bruce placed his cup on the counter, reaching for his wallet. "I'm going to pay you for this _and_ the espresso from last time too."  
  
Tony eyed the bill Bruce slide across the counter, an eyebrow arched in silent inquiry.

Bruce shrugged. "I would have insisted on paying for it then, but I got the impression Miss Potts wasn't likely to change her mind. I thought it best to just accept it."  
  
The other man's snort and the flash of a quick grin was more than enough to confirm that Bruce's initial reading of the woman had been acurate. Miss Potts was definitely a strong willed woman.  
  
Tony had no problem taking the money, charging both drinks and sliding the money back to him across the counter.  
  
Bruce took another small sip of his cappuccino, looking at the other man over the rim of his cup. He didn't seem quite so annoyed at him now, but neither more at ease with his presence.  
  
"Thank you." He said cheerily, reaching for the money and dropping it straight into the tip jar. He then turned around, walking toward the door at a slow pace, the cup firmly held in his hand and a vapid smile plastered on his face. He could feel the barista’s sharp eyes on his back, following his every move, just like last time.  
  
He winked at a cute blonde sitting at a table by the door, watching a soft blush coloring her cheeks before pulling the door open and stepping outside. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tony was still looking at him through the large window of the coffee shop.

The interest wasn't one-sided, apparently. Bruce tipped his head, the corner of his lips curling upward.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is going to have a bit of slow built. I'm doing my best to remain in character in spite of the very obvious differences with canon so let me know how I'm doing so far and what you think of the fic! The POV would be switched between chapters, so the next one would be back to Tony's.
> 
> Again, feel free to point out any mistake.


	3. Where Bruce shares his philosophy of life with Tony

**+++**

"Thank _you_!" Tony said loudly from behind the counter, making the man walking toward the door take his eyes away from his Smartphone for the first time since he had stepped into the coffee shop and turn back to look at him, just like Tony had planned. "Well, look at that. It wasn't so hard, was it? And it took me less than five seconds out of my very busy day."  
  
The man's back went rigid, eyes cold as ice as he shot him a murderous look. Tony just winked, smiling widely. Looking around at the rest of the costumers, the man made a visible effort to control his temper, forcing himself to keep walking toward the door instead of turning around and very likely beat Tony to a pulp.  
  
Tony waved at the man until the door closed behind him, giving the rest of the costumes looking at him a shrug.  
  
Pepper rubbed a hand over her face, sighing deeply before murmuring, " _Really_ Tony?"  
  
"What? He was an asshole. I really don't think there's anything wrong with setting a precedent about the very basic standards we expect our _lovely_ costumers to have." Tony's eyebrows knitted together. "I don't think is unreasonable to expect them to at least be able to say _please_ and _thank you_."  
  
Pepper rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upward. "With a Starbucks at every corner we can't afford to be _that_ picky about our customers, Tony."  
  
Tony sighed dramatically, making a show of dropping his shoulder in defeat. "I guess we're doomed to serve assholes and jerks that think themselves above us, Goodness of Coffee that feed their caffeine addictions."  
  
"You can always pursuing acting as your new career, Tony. You're a natural." Pepper deadpanned.  
  
Tony grinned at her. "Oh! Don't forget my good looks too."  
  
Pepper snorted softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She was straightening up when something caught her attention, recognition and surprise flickering in her blue eyes.  
  
Tony followed her gaze, annoyed and not all that surprised to see Bruce Wayne, in all of his of billionaire playboy glory, pulling the door open, the tiny bell above the door chiming softly. Wayne looked as if he had stepped out of the cover of a magazine --yet again-- instead of a living, functional person going about with his life. Which pretty much summed him, really.  
  
"Speaking of jerks..." He murmured.  
  
Pepper cleared her throat softly to get his attention, giving him a look that promised doom and pain if he pulled the same stunt from last time. Tony gave her his most innocent look, shrugging off the unimpressed look she shot him and turning his gaze away from her. She knew him far too well. And there was also the fact he had conveniently _forgotten_ to mention the billionaire's second visit to her, so he could understand her reaction.

"Good... afternoon is it already?" Wayne was peering at his expensive watch, dark eyebrows knitted together as he stood before the counter.  
  
Pepper shot him a quick look while Wayne wasn't looking, but Tony struggled unrepentantly. He was doing enough by stopping himself from blurting out something that could be considered "offensive" to Wayne. Besides, it wasn't his job to be _nice_.  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr Wayne." Pepper replied, giving Wayne a strained small smile.  
  
"Ah, Miss Potts. It's wonderful to see you again." Wayne beamed at Pepper, making her blink. Tony snorted. The billionaire's reaction was a bit too cheerful for a woman he had met very briefly just once before. But then again, cheerful seemed to be the playboy's default mode. "Let me compliment you on the espresso you made for me the other day. It was delicious."  
  
"Thank you Mr Wayne."  
  
Wayne turned his laughing hazel eyes to him. "It's a pleasure to see you again too, Mr..."  
  
"Just Tony is fine." Tony dismissed, quite pleased with his polite tone. Pepper should be very proud of him and his restraint. She _really_ should.  
  
Wayne's expression remained placidly bland, but Tony caught a blink-and-you-miss-it flicker of something in his hazel eyes. He narrowed his eyes, searching for a clue as to what the hell he had seen but then the man's bright, vapid smile stretched and Tony had to wonder if he hadn't imagined it after all. Wayne was too shallow to have depths.

"All right. Nice seeing you again, 'just Tony.'"  
  
The billionaire winked, grinning like a fool and Tony couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Any other thoughts that diverted his attention from the growing annoyance he was feeling right now were swept away. He was really _trying_ to behave here. He really was. But the man's stupidity reached astronomical levels. How he even got out of his home --mansion, more like it-- and into the real world everyday was a _fucking_ mystery to him.  
  
"Great. So what's it going to be this time? An espresso again?"

"Nope. It is my firm belief that you have to be adventurous even with the simplest things in life. Why go with the usual when you can try new things every day?"  
  
Tony didn't say anything, watching Wayne's grave expression. He was biting the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste blood. "That's... very deep."  
  
Wayne, seeming to miss the blatantly sardonic note in Tony's voice entirely, nodded emphatically. "It is, isn't it? I think that's actually my philosophy of life."  
  
Tony exchanged a quick look with Pepper. Well, it was good to know he wasn't the only one freaked out right now. And really, weren't there people Wayne actually _paid_ and stuff to put up with him and his fucking non-existing brain? Because the price of a coffee so _did not_ cover this shit.  
  
"So, are you going to order anytime soon?"  
  
"Oh. I'll have a  low fatcaffé latte please. "  
  
Tony was very much offended when Pepper moved to make Wayne's drink. It wasn't like he wanted to attend the playboy or anything, but it was very sad she didn't trust him to make Wayne's drink. It was not like he would spit on it or anything like that. At least no with Wayne just a couple of feet away.  
  
Wayne was standing casually, a hand stuffed in his trouser pocket as he peered lazily at the chalkboard behind him. But Tony wasn't fooled by the act _at all_. He was damn sure the billionaire was sending furtive looks at him every now and then. And he had no fucking idea what to make of... _it_.  
  
Tony felt a flicker of... something --something almost but not quite like relief-- as the bell above the door chimed yet again and he noticed a couple of young women stepping into the coffee shop. Great! Now he'll have a perfectly reasonable reason to stop just standing in display for the billionaire without Pepper giving him hell for it. The feeling went away almost at once when he watched them move to sit at one of the tables, murmuring and throwing not very discreet looks at Wayne, instead of walking toward the counter.  
  
Tony sighed in annoyance. He might as well talk to Wayne and work on getting an answer to the question that has been in his mind since the billionaire's first appearance.  
  
"So," He started after clearing his throat, drawing Wayne's attention. "I hear there's a very popular coffee in Midtown. Italian or something."  
  
Wayne blinked. "Le Jardin Des Cygnes? It's French, actually. I think they import their coffee beans from somewhere in South American, though."  
  
Tony furrowed his brow on that last part. He already knew the café was French, of course. Just like he _also_ knew the coffee there was great and the place was just a couple of blocks away from Wayne Tower. "That's the kind of place most people would expect to find 'The Bruce Wayne.'"  
  
"I'm not much of following people's expectations." Wayne's voice was light, the corner of his lips lifted up just slightly. It was _not_ a pleasant smile. But somehow... somehow it _fit_. Tony's eyes narrowed as he watched him. That right then was the most honest expression he had seen on Wayne's face so far.

Pepper was at his side a moment later, sliding the cup toward Wayne and Tony saw the billionaire's expression shift; lips broadening into a wide, bright smile. A smile that didn't fully reach his eyes. Not really.  
  
"Thank you." Wayne murmured, sliding a bill in exchange, and only when Pepper moved away he turned his attention back to him. "It's a nice place," He started, surprising Tony by answering his unspoken question. "And the coffee is delicious, but it's too _crowded_ for my taste. I actually have to _wait_ in line to order."  
  
Wayne's voice waved between aggrieved and bewildered as he said it, and Tony didn't even try to pretend he found the whole thing amusing, even if that was the reason the playboy was here in the first place. Speaking of which...  
  
"So you're telling me Gotham's very own Prince doesn't have some random guy to go pick up his coffee?" Tony arched a dark eyebrow behind his glasses, disbelief coloring his words.

"I really hadn't thought about that, but you're absolutely right. Sometimes they make me stay too long in the office and I could definitely use another cup." Wayne tilted his head further to the side. "Now that I think about it, there are _so_ many interns in the company that I'm sure no one would mind if I _borrowed_ one for a little bit. Besides, it's not like they're doing anything really important anyway."  
  
Tony watched Wayne shrug his shoulders in a fluid motion, feeling _not_ all that sorry for the poor interns' life’s he had just messed up with if it mean getting rid of Wayne.  
  
"Your change Mr Wayne."  
  
"Thank you." Wayne threw a bright, flirty smile Pepper's way, not even waiting to gauge her reaction before turning to stuff all of the bills into the very much empty tip jar yet again.  
  
Pepper's eyes widened ever so slightly under her bangs, her eyes flickering toward Tony while Wayne's attention was away. Tony just struggled, having half-expected that after the last time. Besides, that was most likely just pocket change for Wayne.  
  
"I really must get going now." Wayne said with an overly dramatic sigh. And just like that, the smile was back just seconds later. "Have a wonderful day, Miss Potts, Tony."  
  
Pepper cleared her throat softly. "You too, Mr Wayne."  
  
With a soft grin and a final nod at each of them Wayne turned around, body moving graceful and fluid as he walked away. It wasn't until then that Tony realized he didn't get the answer he had been looking for. Well, _fuck_. Maybe he should have spelled it out.

One of the women that stepped inside while Wayne had been in moved to the counter to order, so it wasn't until she was back to her table with two coffee cups and a couple of muffins that Pepper turned to him with a look. She seemed more annoyed that mad, though, which was always good. A _mad_ Pepper was a _dangerous_ Pepper.  
  
"Did you really have to act like that, Tony?"  
  
There wasn't anyone near the counter, still, Pepper made sure to keep her voice low to avoid the risk of being overheard. Tony followed her lead.  
  
"Come, that's the way I act with _any_ annoying costumer."  
  
"Exactly. Like it or not Bruce Wayne isn't just anyone. That man _owns_ half of the city, and the only reason he doesn't own the other half is because the mob does. And I've told you to stop acting like that with any costumer." Pepper added as an afterthought.  
  
Tony pondered the idea of letting her know Wayne already had undergone an unsupervised visit with him the other day while she had been away. If the billionaire still had come back after that, Pepper really shouldn't have to worry too much about the billionaire's susceptibilities.

"You're just lucky Wayne isn't bright enough to understand what you really mean with all everything you just said to him."  
  
Tony snorted. Yeah... maybe not. For some reason, Tony couldn't honestly say he was certain Pepper's assessment of Wayne was fully accurate, even if he couldn't point out why exactly. Not that _he_ gave a damn about it anyway. Or about anything to do with Wayne.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the long wait, but I had a bit of troubles with this chapter. I actually wrote four different introductions. The one used here, two that I would be using further on and a fourth one that was discarded. *sigh* Anyway, I promise I will do everyting I can to post the next chapter sonner.
> 
> The _Le Jardin Des Cygnes_ cáfe doesn't exist, or at least not in the exact same way I described it here. As far as I can tell, there's only a hotel called like that. Just in case you were wondering :P
> 
> Again, feel free to point out any mistake.


	4. Where Tony notices something on Bruce's skin

**+++**

Bruce drummed his finger against the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed on the red traffic light, willing it to change to green faster. He had no time to lose if he wanted to be in and out of Wayne Enterprise before William Earl returned from having lunch with his wife.  
  
While he normally took great pleasure in annoying Earl with his foolishness, he was in no mood to put up the airhead playboy facade for too long after the fiasco from last night. Which was also the reason he was going back to Wayne Enterprises so soon.  
  
Lucius Fox; head of the Applied Sciences division. Bruce wasn't even sure if implicate the man further was a good idea. He seemed like a kind, honest, brilliant man, which matched seamlessly with what the paper trail Bruce had researched showed. Even Alfred had vouched for him, so to speak. The fact Earl had shoved him aside to stop him from "causing the board any more trouble" while he did what he wanted with the company had only served to enhance Bruce's opinion of Fox.  
  
Of course, _this_ was far more complex than linking or trusting Fox. The older man was a _very_ smart man. There was _no way_ he wouldn't be able to put things together the moment Batman made a real  appearance. It was bad enough have to drag _Alfred_ into all this; but just like with his old friend, he needed Fox's help.  
  
He was sure he would be able to come up with a solution for this himself if he really had to, but that would take time he couldn't afford to lose. Time Gotham _did not_ have.  
  
Bruce lifted a hand to rub over his face, letting the edge of a purplish bruise peek out from under the sleeve of his shirt. One of his many he had gotten last night.  
  
His hasty withdrawal from Gordon's office had left him a couple of bruised ribs --perhaps a cracked one-- and relatively minor scrapes and contusions all over his body. The more deep ones were located in parts where the protection of the suit was lighter. Not that he really care about any of them. After years of training, minor injuries such as these had become more annoying than painful. And, if he was truly honest with himself, a significant part of him would have  appreciated \--okay, that was going too far. It was more like he would have welcomed-- a _worst_ outcome without as much as a _grimace_. It would have been rightfully _earned_ by his sloppy planning.  
  
Gordon was _a cop_ , for fuck's sake! Of course he was going to take out _his_ _gun_ and chase after the person that broke into his office and held him at gunpoint, --at least as far as _he_ knew-- no matter what he was told. If nothing else, Gordon's prompt reaction had increased Bruce's confidence that he was doing the _right_ thing by trying to reach out to him.  
  
Naturally, Alfred's reaction had been _far_ from  similar to his. As soon as he noticed the bruises, Alfred's reaction had been a barely perceptible lift of his right eyebrow and the flicker of a particular emotion in his eyes, gone in a blink. _Concern_. An emotion Bruce had seen in Alfred's eyes more than a few times over the years. Always directed at _him_.  
  
Bruce was sure Alfred was already reconsidering his _too quick_ agreement to go along with the crazy plans of his charge without asking for a psychological assessment to ensure he was on his right mind. Bruce couldn't blame him, really. _Batman_ was yet to make his first real apparition in Gotham, and _he_ was already getting hurt. If he didn't remember all too clearly his years of training and what he was capable of, he would agree wholeheartedly with him.  
  
He turned right at the next intersection, but it wasn't until he was a couple of blocks away from the already familiar coffee shop that he started to contemplate whether he should stop by or not.

It wasn't a hard decision. Not really. He would never say no to a _good_ cup of coffee, and it wasn't as if stopping there would take him more than a few minutes. And well, he _really_ could use the distraction too.  
  
He wasn't any closer to getting an answer to the mystery of just _who_ 'Tony' was. But then again, he wasn't working too hard on that. He could have made a drawn, or even taken a picture to run through _his_ personal database --which was a mix of the databases of the GPD, FBI, CIA, MI6, and a few other Agencies of Intelligence over the world. It had taken him _months_ to  put it together, mostly because he was _very_ careful about hiding his tracks-- _Hell_ , he could have run the fingerprints on the coffee cup from his second visit --the only one the other man had touched-- but he hadn't.  
  
It felt like _cheating. S_ omehow. And it wasn't like the man was a threat or anything, so there was no reason why he couldn't take his time solving _this_. Whatever it was.  
  
It was funny, but Bruce felt like the answer was staring him right in the face and he just _couldn't_ see it. Almost as if he was waiting for just _one more_ piece of the puzzle to fall into place, and then he would be able to see the whole picture; the answer he was looking for. It would be frustrating if this didn't have its moments of amusement too.  
  
Bruce was parked and out of his shiny red Porsche a moment later. He smoothed down his tie and buttoned his jacket before walking toward the coffee shop's glass door.

He paused for a second after pulling the door open, lips twisted into a wry smile as he stepped inside.  
  
There was a _waiting line_ today. _Of course_ there was. It was a line of only three people, but that was still three people more than the ones he had encountered in his previous visits.

Miss Potts noticed him as soon as she lifted her gaze to hand over a ticket and a few bills to the blonde at the head of the line. Bruce flashed her way a bright, slightly toned-down smile. It wasn't his Bruce Wayne smile, but neither was a real smile. She answered with a small, polite curl of her lips and a nod of acknowledgment before turning her attention to the next customer; another blonde now reciting her order in a monotone voice.  
  
Tony turned to hand over a paper cup to a waiting customer just a couple of seconds later, noticing his presence at last.

Bruce had been _discreetly_ watching the other man work, so he saw the exact moment Tony's eyes zeroed in on him. He saw surprise, quickly followed by recognition, flicker in the man's brown eyes, and a flash of... _something_ else. Something Bruce was unsure how to  classify.

Whatever it had been, it was replaced in a blink by the man's already usual annoyance as he rolled his eyes and turned back to his work.  
  
Bruce watched the young man in line before him move to the side to wait for his order. He took one more step to stand directly in front of the redhead behind the counter.  
  
"It's great to see you again, Miss Potts."  
  
"Likewise, Mr Wayne." The redhead greeted him amiably. It was the look in her eyes that let him know she was more nervous than pleased with his visit. It was a very fair reaction."What can I get you today?"  
  
"Two Americanos. And _please_ , just call me Bruce. I'm not fan of all that 'Mr Wayne' nonsense." Bruce added in a low, almost conspiratorial tone, handing her a bill.  
  
"Of course. But only if you agree to call me Virginia. Or Pepper. That's what most people call me."  
  
"It's a deal." The corner of Bruce's mouth lifted into a small, honest smile this time. This place was _definitely_ something else.  
  
The woman, Pepper, wasn't giving him the over-the-top politeness and  fawning he found _everywhere_ he went. There was only honesty and openness in her words. Besides, she was being as polite to him as she was to any other customer that came in. Because that's what she had been taught, and nothing more. Bruce had   _witnessed_ it  in the short time he had been here.  
  
The information he had found on her and her family made him _respect_ her, but now he was starting to _like_ her too.  
  
With a smile Bruce took his change, depositing it into the tip jar before moving to the side to wait for his coffee. Like most small business in Gotham, the coffee shop wasn't doing so well. That much he had learned from his skip through the information he had found on Virginia Potts and this place. And h e couldn't yet rule them out as victims of extortion from of one of the crime groups in the city. He _really_ should look into that, now that he thought about it.

Besides, if he gave more than generous _tips_ to luxurious places Billionaire Bruce Wayne was expected to attend, why wouldn't he do the same to small establishments that really needed money?  
  
As Tony was about to turn with a coffee cup for the other man waiting, Bruce noticed him exchange a look with Pepper. Intrigued, he watched the silent conversation passing through their eyes. Somehow, he was sure she was doing more of the talking.  
  
He couldn't help but be remembered of Alfred and the many conversations they had shared over the years without either having to say a word. Tony and Pepper were closer than he had thought.  
  
Coffee finally on his hand, the other customer hurried out of the coffee shop, letting Bruce alone before the counter.  
  
"Guess your butler still hasn't changed his mind about the coffee restriction, huh?" Tony remarked offhandedly, taking Bruce by surprise. Not only at the reference to their past conversation, but in the way in which it was said. It wasn't exactly a _friendly_ tone, but it wasn't mocking either. Or well, not _too_ mocking.  
  
"There's _no way_ to make Alfred change his mind about anything, trust me on that. But only one coffee is for me. The other is for Mr Fox. He's in charge of one of the divisions of the company." There was no need for him to elaborate. Earl _ensured_ the fact Bruce now had a job at Wayne Enterprise  was publicly known. A publicity stunt and nothing more.

The other man didn't say anything to that and Bruce didn't attempt to make conversation, instead watching the barista as he moved behind the counter. He kept his face carefully composed into a bored expression as he observed him work.  
  
It wasn't too long before Tony put the drinks in a carrier and placed it down on the counter before him.

"That must have hurt." Tony commented with a nod at the dark bruise on Bruce's wrist that came into view as he reached to take the paperboard drink carrier.  
  
"Oh I guess it did." Bruce answered with a lazy shrug, after peering down at his wrist as if he had forgotten the bruise was there at all.  
  
Tony arched an eyebrow. "You guess?"  
  
"I had one too many glasses of wine last night, so I don't really remember. According to Alfred I didn't turn on the light when I enter my room, so I must have stripped or something walking in the dark." The lie flowed effortlessly from his mouth in a slightly hushed tone. Be seen as a drunken, clumsy playboy would be useful to explain some of his future injuries. Even if right now the hint of embarrassment wasn't entirely feigned.

"Must have been a hell of a fall to leave a bruise like that." The barista retorted, eyeing the bruise. Bruce blinked, surprised by the man's skepticism. Time to tone up the airhead playboy act.  
  
Dark eyebrows knitting together, Bruce lifted his arm to examine the bruise more closely. "Is it really too noticeable? I should have let Alfred put some makeup on it, I guess.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, reaching for the carrier.  
  
He saw the other man open his mouth to say something --most likely an insult disguised or something like that-- when his cell phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket with his free hand, looking down at the screen. It took some effort to keep from rolling his eyes and put on a bright smile on his face instead, but Bruce managed it for the most part.  
  
"I really have to take this. But it was great talking to you." Bruce said hurriedly, flashing him a wide, hollow smile. He put the phone to his ear without waiting for an answer, flashing yet another smile, this time at Pepper's direction, before turning around to walk away.  
  
"Bruce Wayne." He answered in a smooth, rich voice that carried over the coffee shop. Making most --if not all-- of the customers in the place turn to look at him. "Vicki, darling how are you? Oh you know me, here and there. But let me tell you your unexpected call just made my day _better_."  
  
Holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, he pulled open the door and walked toward his car, all the while keeping up a cheerful tone as he tried to dodge, before finally give up and agree set up a date that, knowing Vicki, would turn into an interview or the prelude of one.  
  
 _Great_. Just great.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for not uploading sooner, but I had some family issues that made it impossible for me to write for a few weeks. That without mention the six times I read through this to try and find any mistakes. By the way, if you find one, please let me know!
> 
> So, anyway. As you can see, I'm already starting to add bits of the Batman Begins canon here. That's something I'm planning to keep doing as the story goes on. I know there isn't a lot of Bruce/Tony interaction here, but I promise next chapter would have more. And considering Bruce's is the world's greatest detective, I felt like I had to explain why he hasn't figured out who's Tony already. But don't worry, he will soon ;)
> 
> Also, I've been tweaking with the storyline for a while now, and to fit with what I plan to do later, Tony's mother is death and only his father would be alive here. Just letting you guys know, since in the beginning I mentioned both would be alive.
> 
> And I think that's all. I plan to post the next chapter before the month ends, so let me know what you think!


	5. Where Bruce doesn't reads newspapers but Tony does

**+++**

Tony took a sip of his almost scalding cup of coffee, -black and almost strong enough to hold a spoon upright, just like he liked it- with today's edition of the Gotham Times spread out on the counter in front of him.

Most customers were too busy with their I Pads, laptops, cell phones and any other fancy new technological gadget in the market to care about newspapers anymore, but out of tradition Pepper still insisted on buying at least a copy of the most popular and renowned newspapers every day. Well, that _and_ the Gotham Gazette. That newspaper was quite frankly a sensationalist piece of garbage. And well, there were a few old school customers that did read them. _Sometimes_.

Pepper was in the back room now, taking advantage of the late morning's calm to work on the monthly inventory. They had figured out long ago that Tony didn't have the patience to go around counting stuff and making boring list. The first and only time he had tried that he had ended up with only half of a page used for the inventory and the next three filled with schematics no _average_ person would be able to create. So yeah. The monthly inventory was entirely Pepper's job now.

Having finished with the Times Tony folded the paper and placed it back with the rest, taking the Gazette as he did so. It might be the worst newspaper ever published, but its articles were _so_ bad that they ended up being hilarious most of the time. It made for a fun read.

Just like every other newspaper in Gotham the biggest news was still -and would most likely remain for weeks, if not months- the bust of Falcone's operation at the hands of some nut job wearing a _cape_ and a _pointy eared_ black mark (at least according to the statement of Falcone's men) The same man reporters had very originally started calling _BatMan_.

Even now, four days after the fact, the photo of Falcone's "detention" was still front-page of a few newspapers. Probably because there wasn't a new photo of the man ever since.

The mob boss had been found tied to a huge searchlight just a couple of feet away from where the rest of his merry band of thugs lie unconscious and tied all up. Only a large _gift bow_ in the thugs' heads was missing from the scene, really. Purposely or not, the way the mob boss had been tied (both legs and arms spread out) made the shadow of his body project the makeshift silhouette of a bat in the sky. _A bat_. So BatMan.

Aside from the thugs' statements of being attacked by a pointy eared shadow with a cool cape and some sharp bat-shaped metal things the police had found at the scene -presumed to be weapons- there was _nothing_ on the bat-freak. And yeah, the guy may have caught Falcone, but he _definitely_ was a bat-freak. Come, the guy not only was dressed kind of like a bat, but had also taken the time to sharpen his little whatever-they-were-called weapons into little bats. _Little bats._

Tony was about to turn the page when he caught a sight of small picture of Bruce Wayne in the lower right side of the cover. The words 'The truth about Wayne's seven-year absence exposed?' was under it, making Tony snort. The question mark meant that whatever _new_ information they had supposedly "uncovered" was nothing more than mindless speculation and far-fetched conjectures taken from some small little detail or a trivial comment Wayne had made at some interview or another.

One might think that after months of dragging around the news of the triumphant return of Gotham's prodigal son, not only the public, but the media as well would have gotten tired of the whole thing already. But _of course_ they hadn't. Instead, they turned the man's every move into news. Or at least they did when they aren't bringing up the same bullshitting speculations of Wayne's whereabouts for the last seven years.

The wild speculation when from Wayne having been secretly admitted to a rehab center after an overdose, to some crazed crusade he had set for himself which consisted of sleeping with a woman from every country. Some even went as far as to assure Wayne had formed part of a secret cult somewhere. One of the most popular versions of the latter affirmed Wayne had been brainwashed into helping finance a cult somewhere in India, and they had fried his brain after that, covering their tracks. That version did have some merit, Tony had to agree. The more light speculations said Wayne had simply been on one of those eccentric clubs to which only the rich and famous were privy to.

With a shake of his head Tony pulled the paper open, going straight to the note on Falcone. He was half way through the article when the bell at the door chimed softly. He closed the newspaper with a sigh, putting it aside as he looked up.

There it was Bruce Wayne, striding into the place as if he owned it. _Again_. Looking as if he had stepped out of the cover of some fancy women's magazine with his perfect hair and tailored suit. _Again_. Tony couldn't say he was surprised. Not anymore.

"Ah ... Tony right?" Wayne's smile was firmly in place as he looked around as if searching for something -or someone- before his eyes came to rest in Tony's face again. "I see Miss Potts isn't here?"

"She's working." Tony replied curtly, barely stopping himself from crossing his arms and glaring at the playboy. He settled for giving him an unimpressed look instead.

Wayne blinked at him, his well-groomed eyebrows knitted together. "I thought she worked here ..."

"She does."

"You know, I- Oh. Is that today's paper? Can I borrow it?" Wayne truly seemed to have the attention span of a gnat, having forgotten all about Pepper in a second, his attention caught by the newspaper Tony had been reading. _The_ newspaper with a photo of the playboy in the cover. _Of course_.

Tony handed him the paper without a word, watching as the billionaire examined the picture closely, even going as far as tilting his head to the side to see it better. He lowered the paper back to the counter, making a face. "Ugh, the angle of this photo is all wrong! Look at my face, it looks so ... I don't know. Fat. This photographer takes the worst photos ever."

Wayne's lips were pursed in displeasure, almost forming into a small pout and his brow still furrowed. Still, Tony could swear he saw a flicker of amusement in the man's otherwise vapid face, just for a second.

Tony looked down at the photo. He found nothing wrong with it, just like the first time he saw it. Wayne looked as handsome and elegant as he always did. Because yeah, Wayne might be an annoying as hell shallow _idiot_ , but the man was _more_ than fine. He had the face, the body and _the ass._

The ass Tony had taken _every_ single advantage that had presented itself to check out during the man's visits. He had enjoyed greatly of the couple of seconds it took Wayne to walk out of the shop. It was the only _highlight_ on the billionaire's now frequent visits, really.

Not that Tony was planning to say any of that. _Hell no._ Instead he said, "I thought billionaires had the money to buy newspapers."

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. I've bought a couple of places here and there, but I definitely _need_ a newspaper too." Wayne paused a moment, eyes flickering to the paper that had caused all the fuss. "I guess the Gazette would be as good as any. If only to stop them from posting _this_ kind of photos."

Tony arched an eyebrow, not sure if he was amused or annoyed at what the playboy had just said. Probably both. "I was talking about buying _a copy_ of the newspaper every morning."

"Oh. Well, I'm not really in the habit of reading newspapers. They are too _depressing_ and dark for me. Besides, I get bored reading for too long. But I do in fact have subscriptions to several newspapers that are delivered to the Manor every morning."

"Let me get this straight. You have not one, but _several_ subscriptions to newspapers even though _you_ don't read them." Tony let a touch of disbelief color his words as he questioned him.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Wayne's shoulder moved in a smooth, fluid motion as he shrugged. "Alfred likes to read them. Besides, he always takes a look at them to let me know when there's an article about me. I was in a bit of a rush this morning because I wake up late so that's why he didn't get the chance to tell me about this."

" _Riiight_." Tony watched Wayne take the newspaper again and flip it open. He was presumably looking for the article about him. "Are you planning to order something, or you just came to check the papers?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'll have a triple espresso macchiato. With only a dab of foam please." Wayne said without taking looking up, his eyes skimming avidly over the article. After the playboy's words just a moment ago, Tony was more than sure he wasn't actually _reading_ it.

Tony turned away from Wayne without a word, rolling his eyes as he went to work on the playboy's order.

"It amazes me all the crazy things reporters can come up with." Wayne said with a lopsided smile when Tony returned with his drink. "I swear _almost nothing_ of what I did while I was away was half as exciting as most of the things people _think_ I did."

Tony's first impulse was to question Wayne about the things he _actually_ had done during his trip, but he didn't want to boost the billionaire's ego any more than it already was. So he settled for voicing the second thought that crossed his mind.

"You should have given a straight answer from the start if you didn't want people to speculate about it."

"Oh but I do." Wayne countered with a soft mischievous glint in his eyes and a wide grin. "It's _so much fun_ reading all the wild speculation and rumors flying around about my little trip. Some of them hadn't even crossed my mind before and now I want to leave the country again and _really_ do them this time."

Watching the man in front of him with a touch of something like pity, Tony wondered not for the first time what his life would have been if he had stayed home; if he had confronted his father and _acted_ rather than run away from everything. Or if he had returned on one of the _many_  occasions he had considered it, especially the first years. He wondered if his life would be as hollow and shallow as Bruce Wayne's life if he had.

He liked to think it wouldn't have. For one thing, he wouldn't have been just a vapid rich boy drinking and fucking his way around the city, making a fool of himself everywhere he went. Not that he would be a _prude_ or something, but at least he would actually have a _brain_ to use and show around, taking completely the reins of Stark Industries aside from partying and drinking and fucking.

Not that any of that actually matter since he wasn't going back. Not now and not _ever_.

Tony pulled himself out of his thoughts and noticed Wayne was watching him steadily; a small line between his brows. The billionaire blinked then, and whatever _emotion_ had been in his face was gone, leaving only a look of mild boredom and curiosity in his hazel eyes.

"You looked kind of gone for a bit there. Are you okay?"

"Fine." Tony replied curtly after a moment of silence, eyes narrowing as he looked at Wayne's face. This wasn't the first time he saw the quick _shift_ of expression in the billionaire's face. It made him wonder if perhaps Wayne suffered from split personality disorder or something similar. But then again, with so many people watching the man's every move, it wouldn't make sense that no one had noticed it before.

"Um, you're doing it again."

"Yeah well, I have a lot of things in my mind." Tony almost snapped, angrier at himself for getting carried away twice now than with the clueless billionaire before him. Blinking his eyes, he noticed for the first time that the paper was folded on the counter and Wayne was already holding the cup in his hands as he watched him a touch warily now. Huh, maybe Wayne was right to be looking at him like that.

"Finished with that?" Tony asked with a nod to the folded paper in the counter, trying to divert the attention away from his little lapse. With Wayne's short attention span, it shouldn't be hard.

"Kind of. There's this _very boring_ board meeting at Wayne Enterprises I'm supposed to make an apparition at so I think I'll save it for then. Or I could just ask Alfred to read it and then tell me what it was about when I get home." Wayne shrugged his shoulder again, sliding a bill across the counter.

Tony took the bill without a word and was about to walk to the register when he stopped, turning back to Wayne. "Are you going to put all of your change into the tip jar again?"

Wayne blinked, a faint expression of honest confusion on his face. "Uh ... yes?"

"Then it's okay if I don't give you change, right? You're just going to give it back anyway." Tony waited for Wayne's answer with an arched eyebrow, the bill held in his hand.

"Alright." Wayne replied quietly, the corner of his lips tilted upward ever so slightly as he gave him an unreadable look. "Thank you for the coffee then."

Tony took only a couple of seconds to lazily admire the very nice view of Wayne's retreating rear as the man walked away. Then he moved to the register to put the money. The glass door was closing behind Wayne when he moved back to where he had been standing, grabbing the Gazette and going back to finish reading the article about Falcone.

It wasn't until he read the first two lines of the second page for the _ fourth time_ that he finally give in with a deep sigh and a roll of his eyes. Looking over his shoulder, he quickly checked to make sure Pepper wasn't about to come back before he stared flipping through the pages, stopping only when found the article on Wayne.

Two pages. _Two_ pages full of pointless speculation, half-assed conjectures and made up or at least questionable evidence in order to sell. All of it trimmed with photos of Bruce Wayne looking sexy and _God-like_.

Barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes yet again so soon, Tony started reading. It should all make for a placidly hilarious read, he was sure.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh ... I'm an _awful_ updater aren't I? I'm really sorry about that. You can blame my muse for throwing so many plot bunnies almost at once. And well, also my damn habit of procrastination. I really, _really_ hate it. The most I can promise you guys is to have up one chapter every month. That doesn't mean I wouldn't try to update sooner if I can, but _well ..._ I think you get the idea.
> 
> I'm not a hundred percent satisfied with this chapter (the end is just so meh *groans*) but after _so many_ re-reads and edits I finally decided to post it and let you guys to decide if it's good or not. And I guess I'm going to run out of reason really soon for Pepper not to be there even though she is the owner and Tony's boss, aren't I? It's a good thing Bruce is about to finally realize what is going on and just who has been making his drinks ;)
> 
> There's a "new" character making an apparition in the next chapter. I know that doesn't exactly give you guys a lot since only Bruce, Tony and Pepper had really been here fo far, but well. You wanna make any guesses?


	6. Where Tony wants to make money at Bruce's expenses

**+++**

"Becky honey, how are you? I was afraid I wouldn't be hearing from you anytime soon after last night." _Hoping_ was a more accurate word than afraid, but of course he couldn't tell her that. Bruce winced slightly at the squeaky high pitched voice that answered him on the other end of the line. "I know. I'm so, _so_ sorry for leaving you like that, but I was totally beat. So many late nights would do that to you I guess."  
   
He hummed softly, only half-listening to what she was saying. Most of his attention focused on the papers in his hands. It wasn't anything Batman-related --he would never bring anything like that in the car--  but about Wayne Enterprises, or better yet, the shell companies and others various _resources_ he was using to get it back. He furrowed his brow, jotting down a quick note on the corner of the page. A reminder to look further into it later before he turned to the next page.  
   
"Flowers?" Bruce slowly lifted his head, lip twitching into a wry curl as he looked at the back of Alfred's head in the driver seat. The question aimed at him rather than the woman. The butler of course didn't show signs of even having heard the said question.   
   
Alfred drove him today because people expected someone in his position have a driver as the butler had oh so helpfully pointed out, much to Bruce annoyance. It had nothing to do with having the butler driving him around. He was always grateful for Alfred's company, but with the reduced staff Bruce insisted on keeping in the Manor, Alfred had much better things to do than drive his employer around.

And well, there was also the fact he _enjoyed_ the freedom and pleasure of driving by himself in one of the many cars he had hand-picked after coming back. The purchase of special edition cars or of limited production was one of the very few "Bruce Wayne eccentricities" he allowed himself to _truly_ enjoy. It wasn't about having a car that no one else, or very few people had --he left that to the really shallow members of Gotham's society-- but about a car with the latest upgrades available in every sense, which of course equaled the most expensive cars in the market.

"But of course I remember the flowers I send you, Becky! I was just a bit distracted, that's all. But I'm delighted you like them. So," Bruce continued after a moment of hearing her ramble about how beautiful the flowers he had sent her were. Alfred sure went all out with the apologize gift. "Am I forgiven then? Hmm, sure, we can reschedule our date if you want to. Oh, I'm afraid I have a previous engagement for tonight and tomorrow as well." He gave her the expected playful laugh, rolling his eyes. "Why _I_ _am_ a gentleman, Becky, I can't just call to cancel on such short notice. What would people think of me?"  
   
Bruce leaned back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shouldn't be surprised by her perseverance. He _really_ shouldn’t. She had called to the Manor seven times this morning, not to mention the five missed calls to his cell phone before he finally gave up and answered. "You know what? Why don't I call you back to set something up? I haven't the slightest idea of how's my schedule and I would hate to give you a date and then having to change it. Is it okay if I call you to this number?"  
   
"That would be great Becky! Uh huh. Okay, listen I have to go. There's this very boring meeting on Wayne Enterprise I'm suppose to make an apparition at. So, I'll call you, okay? _Of course_ I will call, Becky, I'm wounded you even have to ask." Bruce drummed his finger silently on his thigh. "Mm-hmm, you too. Bye."

Bruce slumped in his seat with a sigh as soon as the call was over, lifting a hand to cover his eyes.   
   
"Surely attending to phone calls and invitations from attractive young women is not quite as strenuous as you make it seem, Master Bruce." Alfred inquired from his place behind the wheel, meeting Bruce's eyes briefly through the rearview mirror.  
   
The billionaire snorted, reaching to slip the phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket. "You say that because you don't have to listen to them talk for more than five minutes, Alfred."  
   
"Then perhaps _it is_ time you consider to expand the circle of people with whom you interact, sir."  
   
"I don't think that would be such a good idea. Being around people whose conversation goes beyond the latest gossip or poorly disguised vapid competitions to see who's better might make it _harder_ for me to stay in character. Besides, I doubt any person with even a bit of common sense would actually agree to go out with _Bruce Wayne_."

Bruce's tone was light as he said it, but there was a sense of ruefulness in his words. He turned his head to the window, missing the troubled look that flickered in Alfred's eyes for just a second as the butler looked back at him through the rearview mirror again.

"I trust you were mindful of the flowers and the card you sent with them. The last thing I need is find a picture in tomorrow's newspapers showing Rebecca already looking for wedding dresses."  
   
"Rest assured, Master Bruce, I was very thoughtful to cover your deepest regret for leaving Miss Wicks so abruptly last night and nothing more."  
   
"Let's hope she thinks the same." Bruce said drily.

They fell into a comfortable silence then; Bruce went back to read carefully through his notes and Alfred focused on driving the Rolls Royce that headed toward Wayne Tower.  
   
"There's a small coffee shop three blocks from here." Bruce said suddenly, looking through the window. "Can you stop there, Alfred?" 

"Surely you wouldn't be ingesting any more caffeine, sir." The butler said politely after a moment's pause, disapproval evident in the slight scolding tone in his voice.  
   
Bruce's lips twitched. "I'm not going to drink any more coffee, Alfred. Don't worry."  
   
"May I inquire as to why you want to stop there then, sir?" Alfred said primly, lifting a single eyebrow.  
   
"There's... someone there."  
   
"I see."  
   
" _It's not like that_." Bruce's brow was furrowed as he protested the implication behind the tone Alfred had chosen to use with those two simple words.   
   
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, sir."

"There's a _man_ that works there." He started, putting special emphasis on the man part to chase away entirely any romantic notions that might have crossed Alfred's mind. "He seems ... familiar. I think I have met him before but I have no idea when or where."  
   
"Perhaps you could benefit from a more direct approach, sir. Surely a couple of rather simple questions would solve the mystery."  
   
Bruce's mouth quirked into a hint of a smile. "I _did_ try that, Alfred. And he was very clear about his answers too. We haven't met before and the only reason I know his name is Tony is because his employer called him that."  
   
Alfred remained silent for a moment. "Well, sir, perhaps you meet that lad during your ... time away and that is the reason why he did not recognize you."

Even before Alfred finished speaking Bruce was already shaking his head. The thought had crossed his mind, of course, but he had dismissed it almost immediately. Even if the probabilities of having met the other man at some point in the last seven years on the other side of the world was unlikely, he knew for a fact he wouldn't have forgotten a face so quickly. "No. No, I would remember it."    
   
"Then I dare say the use of the _downstairs facilities_ would be of great aid to solve the enigma of that man's identity, sir."  
   
"Yes. Except the downstairs facilities aren't meant for my personal use."  
   
"Really sir?"  
   
Bruce rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, Alfred."    
   
As paranoid as it sounded, he wasn't about to mention anything referred to Batman outside the cave, let alone out of the Manor. And neither would Alfred, he knew.  
   
The butler made no further comment as he parked the car. "I believe this is the establishment to which you referred, Master Bruce."  
   
"It is."  
   
"Very well, sir. And please do try to keep your detective work short on this occasion. I have some errands to run before I have to return to pick you up."  
   
"I'll keep that in mind." Bruce replied dryly before opening the door and climbing out of the car. He couldn't say for sure if Alfred was relieved by him showing interest on something that wasn't related to Batman in any way or exasperated by the fact he had gained yet another odd hobby. Both were likely options.

He followed the rich scent of fresh brewed coffee that invaded his sense as soon as he pulled the door open. There was a group of five young girls sitting at the table in the corner to his right, giggling and whispering furiously as he walked inside. The billionaire caught the words ass and fuck among their little chatter and with a grimace did his best to block out the rest of it. Weren't they too young to be acting like that?  
   
The first thing he noticed was that Tony was nowhere to be seen. Miss Potts was there; elbows resting on the counter and a small, genuine smile curling her lips as she talked with an older man standing at the other side of the counter. A short, slightly overweight man with graying hair and probably in his late fifties from what Bruce could tell without seeing his face.  
   
"Of course. Have a good day Mr Jenkins." Bruce heard the woman tell the man as he moved closer. He stood a few feet away, not wanting to intrude. It was clear they were more than mere acquaintances.  
   
The man shook his head slowly. "You too, kid. Please give your mother my best regards."  
   
"I will. Thank you."  
   
The man's dark brown eyes narrowed slightly when he turned around and took in the sight of Bruce standing there. He answered the man's curt nod with a small polite smile watching the man's wary eyes flickering toward Miss Potts. _Ah._ It seemed the man had recognized him as the cheeky playboy who flirted shamelessly wherever he went. No wonder the man was hesitant to leave.  
   
He pointedly did not look at her, putting on a casual stance and blank expression and keeping Bruce Wayne's flamboyance at bay. He wasn't sure if it was his lack of action or whatever he saw on her face, but it was enough to make the man leave, though not without shooting Bruce one last warning look. He rather approved of the man's protectiveness.

"How very nice to see you again, Miss Potts." Bruce kept his voice light even though the man was almost at the door.  
   
"Likewise, Mr Wayne."   
   
"I thought we agree for you to stop calling me Mr Wayne." Bruce's lips were pursed slightly, almost but not quite forming a pout. He was almost sure he saw a small twitch on the woman's lips.  
   
"We did, but only if you stopped calling me Miss Potts too."  
   
"You're _absolutely_ right, of course." He remembered. Of course he did. But why would Bruce Wayne remember that? Bruce Wayne was terrible at remembering things. Specially names. It was enough he remembered her as Miss Potts. In fact, that might be _too much_. He gave her an expectant, coy look, clearly waiting for her to remember him her name.  
   
"Virginia or Pepper is fine." 

"Great! Alright, I'll have a Chai latte please, _Pepper_." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony appear from somewhere in the back. He didn't turn, simply keeping his bright smile in place as he added as an afterthought. "And one of those deliciously looking cranberry scones you've got over there too."  
   
"No coffee this time, huh?"  
   
Bruce made sure to show a brief glimpse of surprise at the sudden voice, turning to look at the man. "Well, I thought maybe I should listen to Alfred about the coffee thing. He's a smart guy and all that." He shrugged, watching Tony roll his eyes as he let out an amused snort.  


The billionaire blinked, looking after the other man as he turned his back to him starting to work on his order. For someone who _didn't_ _even_ bother trying to hide his annoyance every time he step foot in here, Bruce was surprised Tony seemed to remember anything of his previous comments.   
   
Pepper cleared her throat softly then, drawing Bruce's attention back. He caught a curious twinkle in the redhead's eyes as he turned to her, handing her a bill. He waited patiently, a hand shoved into his pocket and the other resting lazily on the counter. With a smile he closed his fingers around the bills and the couple of coins she handed him back, dropping them into the tip jar with a wry twitch of his lips and definitely _not_ lookingin Tony's direction.  
   
"I did follow _your_ advice, you know." Bruce's smile widened involuntarily when he saw Pepper's head snap up at his words, curiosity and confusion blending into her eyes as she turned to look in Tony's direction. The other man couldn't see her but Bruce was pretty sure he could feel the weight of the redhead's gaze.     
   
"Oh?" Tony called back, throwing a mildly curious look over his shoulder.  
   
"You know, about buying a newspaper and stuff. The deal was closed and made official a couple of days ago, actually. So you're seeing the _new_ owner of The Gotham Gazette."  
   
"Oh yeah, I read about it." Bruce saw an amused twinkle in Tony's brown eyes as he met Pepper's gaze briefly without a word. He turned to him then, sliding the cup across the counter. "Say, you think they would pay good money for some random exclusive information about their employer? I could get a recording and everything so they have proof and stuff."

The glare Pepper sent Tony's way was a mix of annoyance and exasperation, which the other man was ignoring with an ease born of long learned habit. The redhead was ready to interfere at any second.  
   
The soft snort of laughter that escaped Bruce's mouth as he reached for his cup was sincere. "I don't think people would be _interested_ in hearing me order coffee or talk about my butler."

"You would be surprised."

Bruce met his eyes, detecting a hint of amusement and something else- something he couldn't quite place in his expression. "I guess I'll have to put that theory to test the next time I find myself surrounded by members of the press." Bruce added just seconds later, watching the redhead moving closer out of the corner of his eye.  
   
She handed him a small paper bag with the logo of the coffee shop printed on it which he took with a nod and a small smile.  
    
"But then again I believe I just got scooped."   
   
Bruce followed Tony's gaze, turning his head to look behind him. It was the same group of teenagers he had seen coming in. The girl on the right with the brown hair made a not very subtle attempt to seem inconspicuous; stashing her phone away and lifting her cup to hide most of her face. The girl in the middle of the group, the one with strands of fiery red hair, didn't even bother with subtlety. Her iPad pointed straight at him either filming or taking pictures. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, turning away from the prying device instead.  
   
"Well, there's always _next_ time, right?" He gave them a last parting nod, his lips curved into a wry smile as he walked away.  
   
Holding the cup and bag in his left hand, he reached the door in just a couple of strides and pulled it open with his free hand. He didn't even flicker his eyes in the girls' direction, even though he could feel her eyes on him.

"See, no coffee. Just like I told you." Bruce told the butler as soon as he climbed into the car and pulled the door closed, lifting the cup so Alfred could see it.

"I can see that, sir." The butler remarked with his usual, proper tone with a dry undertone. "Any progress has been made in your investigation after today's visit, sir?"  
   
"Mmm, maybe. It's still ongoing. Here," Bruce said, handing the bag to Alfred through the space between the front seats. "I brought you this."  
   
Alfred lifted a single eyebrow in inquiry, but didn't say anything, reaching to take and pull the bag open, looking within. "You needn't have bothered, Master Bruce." The butler said turning his head further toward him, giving him a look.  
   
"It wasn't a bother at all." Bruce waved a hand, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. "I know you don't like eating anything you have not cooked or baked yourself, Alfred --not that I blame you for it with you superior cooking skills and everything-- but I think you should give it a try. The pastries there looked really good, and I know cranberry scones are your favorites."

Alfred didn't answer, turning away from him and carefully placing the bag in the passenger seat before starting the engine. Bruce lifted the cup back to his lips, hiding his triumphing smile behind it. It wasn't often he won an argument against Alfred, so even if this hadn't been an argument per se, he was enjoying his victory greatly.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh! Am I the _only_ one who has troubles wrapping up chapters? Like seriously, it's rather ridiculous just how much troubles I have finishing a chapter. Even if I have an idea of how I want it to end I just can't for the life of me make it come out _right_. It took me _weeks_ to finally get almost the whole second half of the chapter done, and _two whole days_ to finish with Alfred and Bruce's interaction in the end. *groans* I know you all have been waiting for a while now and I'm rally sorry about that. On the bright side, this is the longest chapter yet (a litttle over 3,000 words) so think of it as a compensation for the long wait ;)
> 
> Anyway, back to the fic, not a lot of Tony/Bruce interaction again here, I know, but I _love_ Alfred, and had been meaning to add him to the fic almost from the start, and now that I finally did it, I think he kind of stole the chapter. I know I've said it before, but I promise you guys Bruce is getting closer to solving the mystery. Without giving much away, it's only a matter of a few chapters more. Least than five :P
> 
> For these wondering, the man that was in the shop when Bruce comes in was a friend of Pepper's father. I tried looking around on Wikipedia and other sites for something of her past; her family and stuff, but found nothing until she's working on SI, so if any of you know her parents’ name or any information please let me know, otherwise I’m going to go with the background I already have made up, which will come into play in the future.


	7. Where Bruce makes Tony angry ... but not really

**+++**

Tony didn't notice him right away. First, because he didn't spend his whole shift with his eyes glued to the door to see who came in and who left, and second, because they were having a busy day today.  
   
Cloudy skies and cold days were always good for this business; making people crave for a hot beverage, full of coffee to stay alert. Not that it was all that different from the weather in a "normal" day in Gotham, where the sun was non-existent. _Hell_ , the Bat was more of a reality to Gothamites than a ray of sunshine hitting the dark maze of streets in this shadowy city.  
   
It wasn't until the small crowd of customers cleared a bit; leaving only two people waiting for their drinks that Tony noticed the playboy for the first time. His eyes glued to the smartphone in his hand, fingers almost flying over the screen while he waited for his turn.  
  
Detachedly, Tony took in the navy light blue pinstripe suit, the white shirt, and the ... Tony blinked. Wayne was carrying a dark briefcase in his right hand. He was surprised the other man even owned one, but then again, it was probably little more than an accessory to him while he played at being a big businessman.  
   
With a roll of his eyes, Tony turned to finish the two remaining drinks; A cappuccino with no whipped cream and a latte.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw as Wayne moved closer to the counter, sliding his phone into his pocket before putting his briefcase on the counter, giving Pepper a bright smile. "Good morning, Pepper, Tony."  
  
Pepper replied politely to the billionaire's greeting, while Tony merely looked at him briefly after handing the other customers their drinks.  
  
"Oh, before I forget. I was _strictly_ instructed to pass along Alfred's compliments to your pastries; your cranberry scones, to be exact. Alfred is my butler." Wayne added, almost as an afterthought. As if it had just occurred to him they might not know how this Alfred person was. "He was driving me the other day when I came here so the pastry was for him."  
   
Pepper paused for a moment, seemingly uncertain of how to answer to that exactly. "I- well, please give your butler my thanks."  
   
"I will be sure to do that. And believe me when I tell you Alfred is a _God_ in the kitchen, so he isn't someone prone to give compliments so easily. You definitely should feel proud."  
   
Tony shifted his eyes to Pepper, noticing the slightest pink tint on her cheeks and her lips twisting into a small, warm smile that lighted up her eyes. Yes, the easier, more reliable way to get in Pep's good graces was complimenting her mother's tasty goods and cooking skills. Even if Wayne wasn't speaking for himself but his butler.  
   
"I do, Mr Wayne. And I'm sure my mother would feel the same when I tell her about this."  
   
"Oh! Your mother is responsible for such delicious pastries? That's great! I guess this is a family business, then."  
   
"It is, yes."  
   
Well, Wayne definitely went way above mere politeness while speaking with him and Pepper. Pepper more than him. Tony glared at him, not that Wayne even noticed, stupid smile firmly in place as he looked at Pepper. Hell, he even seemed actually _interested_ in what she was saying.  
  
"I'm sorry," Tony started, dragging not only Wayne's gaze, but Pepper's too. "But is there an order in the middle of all that chatter, Wayne?"  
  
Tony wasn't sure he could describe with words the murderous glare Pepper send his way. Sure, it wasn't the first time he was on the receiving end of one of Pepper's glares, --and it certainly wouldn't be the last, either-- but wow.   
   
Wayne's reaction was the total opposite of Pepper's, much to Tony's surprise; a curious, almost amused look shining in his eyes. He was starting to think the billionaire secretly enjoyed being treated badly.  
   
"Tony!"  
   
"He's right." Wayne interrupted before Pepper could go on with the scolding, making both of them snap their heads in his direction. "You both have a job to do and I'm only distracting you with my rambling. Sorry. I guess I'm one of those people who enjoy hearing the sound of their voice too much."   
   
"There's nothing for you to apologize for, Mr Wayne. It was _Tony_ who was out of line with his rude comment and I apologize for that."  
   
"Okay, first it's Bruce, remember? And two, what if no one apologizes then? Let's just forget this."  
  
Tony watched the small exchange with narrowed eyes. They were acting as if he wasn't here at all, what with Pepper's previous display of anger should be a relief to him, but it wasn't. It was annoying and- just _annoying_.  
   
"Now, about that order of mine," Wayne said with a small smile, turning toward him. "Why don't I let you surprise me this time? As long as is warm and there's coffee in it, I'm sure I will be happy with whatever you make. The more coffee the better, though."  
   
Tony arched an eyebrow at the billionaire, catching the glimpse of a pained look in Pepper's face out of the corner of his eye. "I can come up with something, yes."  
   
"Perfect!"  
   
Pepper cleared her throat Just as he was turning away, giving him a look that clearly warned him about a world of pain and suffering if the thought of pulling one of his stunts so much as crossed his mind. Tony gave her his most innocent look, shrugging off the unimpressed look  that appeared immediately on her face.  
  
As strange as it was, he hadn't been planning to do anything anyway. It was tempting, sure. How could it not? And it would serve the billionaire right for pulling this crap even though he _knew_ Tony was already annoyed. Alas he wasn't going to, not only because Pepper would pretty much castrate him right after he did it, but because the coffee shop was doing pretty good, and while not all of it was because of Wayne's more than generous tips, Tony wasn't about to give the billionaire a _real_ reason to take his money elsewhere.  
  
With Pepper watching him like a hawk, Tony set to work.  
  
For a moment, he considered making Wayne the most exquisite, not-of-this-world fan-fucking-tastic coffee he would ever _taste_ and the best ever _made_ , just so he could see Wayne _crawl_ back every single day, begging _him_ for even just a tiny drop of that drink of the gods. In the end, Tony put aside his crazy fantasies, preparing a pretty good beverage, though nothing too fancy. He didn't want it to seem like he was trying to impress Wayne after all.  
   
Wayne did not hesitate as he reached for the cup Tony had slid across the counter, hazel eyes fixed on his own. He did, however, took a little bit too long lifting the cup to his lips to take a sip. Tony could almost _feel_ the nervous energy irradiating from Pepper in those few seconds, even if anyone else who looked wouldn't have noticed anything different in her. He could bet Pepper was going over dozens of different ways she could apologize to Wayne, all the while jumping over him with a fork or something.  
   
"Hmm, this is very good. Strong coffee, just like I like it." Wayne murmured, looking at him over the rim of the cup. He took another sip, eyes gleaming softly.   
   
Tony gave him an unimpressed look. It wasn't quite the reaction he would have liked, but then again it wasn't really one of his best works, so.  
   
"Now, I think it's only fair I get to sample one of the pastries we've talked about so, I'll have ... one of these, please." Wayne pointed to where the raspberry flavored scones where displayed inside the glass case, lifting his eyes to look back at Pepper. "Oh, and can you put it on a little plate or something? I can stay for a little bit to eat it."  
   
"Of course."  
   
Pepper placed a porcelain, white square plate with the pastry in it just a second later, and Wayne in exchange handled her a bill.  
   
"There's no need to give me change." Wayne interrupted just as Pepper has been about to do just that. With a nod to the tip jar, he said, _"I'm just going to give it back anyway."_  
   
Tony almost- almost _winced,_ hearing his own words being thrown back at him. And in front of Pepper, of all things. Even if his own reaction hadn't been telling enough, the not-so-discreet wink Wayne sent his way would have been. Fan- _fucking_ -tastic.  
   
"Of course. Um, do you need any help?" Pepper inquired, nodding at Wayne's coffee, plate and briefcase on the counter.  
  
"Oh. No. No, it's okay. I've got it." It took Wayne only a couple of seconds and a couple of deft moves to solve the issue; adjusting the coffee cup along with his briefcase in one hand, and holding the plate in the other. "Thanks."  
   
Tony watched him move to one of the tables to the right, --the side less crowded-- settle the coffee cup and plate carefully on one of the tables, --a table by the wall, the third from the doors to be exact-- and pull a chair to sit --moving it a little to sit facing the door--. Well. That was unexpected.  
   
"There's no need to give me change. I'm just going to give it back anyway." Pepper whispered in an obviously forced calm tone, eyes flickering in Wayne's direction for a second, as if to make sure he wasn't coming back to the counter.  
   
"Amazing, isn't it? I think that's the smartest thing that's ever come out his mouth." The look on Pepper's face made it clear she wasn't going to let this go, so Tony let out a long suffered sigh, and answered. "Come, it's true! I know it, you know it, but most importantly, _he_ knows it."  
   
He was literally saved by the bell --at least for the time being, if the look Pepper shot him was anything to go by-- as a couple of customers stepped inside. He followed Pepper's example, putting on a friendly face as both proceeded to work.  
   
Ten minutes. Ten minutes had passed since Wayne had walked to sit over _there_ , pulling out _papers_ from his briefcase and hunching over the table --or well, not hunching per se. Heaven forbid someone of Wayne's upbringing sitting with anything other than a perfect posture-- and without looking away from the table for too long.  
   
Tony drummed his fingers on the counter, listening to the low murmur of voices in the almost empty place as he looked at the billionaire's back, brow furrowed. What kind of papers could hold Wayne's attention too long? Or did he have some gossip magazine hidden in there?  
   
"I'll be right back."  
   
"Tony..."  
   
"What? That table over there needs cleaning." Which was of course a lie, since the two tables that had been used on that side had been occupied by two men who had slowly sipped at their coffees without so much as taking their eyes off the screens of their laptops. He gave the redhead a pout and whined, "Aww, come, Pep. You're curious about what he's doing too, don't lie."  
   
Pepper said nothing to that, but the look in her eyes made it clear she was curious indeed. So he wasn't surprised in the least when she didn't try to stop him as he walked to the other side of the counter, a rag in his hand as he moved to wipe down the tables on the right side.  
  
His black sneakers were silent against the tiled floor of the café as he walked toward the table, careful to keep his approach hidden from the billionaire. Tony saw Wayne moving the papers around on the table before taking his cup and lifting it to his lips.  
  
Only a couple of feet away from Wayne, Tony gave a quick wipe to the nearest table just for appearance's sake, slowly creeping closer to take a look over Wayne's shoulder. He saw numbers and letters in the white paper and blinked. Mathematical equations, or more specifically, _differential equations_. That's what Bruce Wayne; flippant airheaded playboy was working on.  
   
He must have made a sound then, because Wayne turned around slightly, tipping his head upwards and looking at Tony with wide hazel eyes. "Um, do you need something?"  
   
Tony froze, eyes flickering from Wayne's puzzled face to the sheets of paper on the table before him.   
   
"You should have a four not a six in there." He said after a moment of awkward silence, pointing with his index finger to the number he was talking about. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew that wasn't exactly the _smartest_ thing to say. At least not in the most general sense of the word.  
   
Wayne's gaze shifted toward the papers on the table after a bemused and silent moment of staring at his face.   
   
Brown furrowed, Tony moved slightly from where he was standing in one attempt to see Wayne's face more clearly. The blank expression on the billionaire's handsome face contrasting greatly with the glint in his eyes as they travel avidly over the equation Tony had oh-so-helpfully corrected. If he thought Wayne had more than two neurons to rub together, Tony would have assumed the playboy was checking if he was right. But then again, if he had been solving the equations in the first place ...  
   
Wide, bright eyes from under well groomed eyebrows finally came back to meet his, blinking twice before speaking. "Um, are you sure? Because a pretty smart kid made ... this."  
   
Tony lifted an eyebrow in silent question.  
   
"I made a bet with a couple guys in the board of the company, so I asked this nice kid at R &D to solve some mathematical stuff for me. They know my handwriting already so that's why I'm copying it here. I was supposed to do it yesterday but I was _so busy_." Wayne heaved a deep sigh before going on. "I guess I shouldn't have paid him just yet."  
   
Tony opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. There were _lots_ of things he wanted to say to that, but in the end went with; "And don't you think they might want to see _you_ solving them rather that just being shown a sheet of paper with equations _you_ claim you made."  
   
"Darn, I hadn't thought of that." A flash of chagrin crossed Wayne's face, but soon the billionaire was smiling lopsidedly, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, it wasn't a very serious bet anyway. Less than five hundred."  
   
Tony rolled his eyes. He didn't even want to think about what kind of bets Wayne might consider serious. "Well, that's a relief."  
   
Wayne hummed quietly. "I thought this kind of mathematical stuff were very hard."   
   
"Yeah, I guess."  
   
"And yet you were able to spot a mistake even a genius kid missed. And in just a couple of seconds." He said thoughtfully, eyebrows knitted together.   
   
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't know shit about this and I'm just messing with you, Wayne."  
  
The corner of the man's mouth twitched upward in the barest of smiles and Tony caught a strange glint in his eyes before he gaze to the side, slightly downward; something warm and alluring he couldn't quite read. He shook his head, aware he had been staring too long. He could tell he was going to regret this, but he asked anyway. "Okay. What is it?"  
   
"What?"  
   
Tony gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't buying that clueless bullshit.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing." Wayne waved a well manicured hand. His shoulders moved in a smooth, small motion in answer to the look Tony send his way. "It's just, you call me Wayne."  
   
"So? That's your name."  
   
"I know, but nobody calls me that. I'm either Bruce or Mr Wayne." Wayne titled his head to the side. "Well, Alfred calls me Master Wayne, but I don't think that counts."  
   
"That would be your butler. The man who _raised_ you."  
   
Wayne's eyes narrowed slightly, a wary gleam flashing in them as he looked up at him. "It is. Why?"  
   
"What kind of cold heartless bastard makes the person how raised him call him master."  
   
A surprisingly soft and quiet laugh came out of the man's mouth, the corners of his deep, hazel eyes crinkling in genuine amusement, taking Tony totally by surprise.  
   
"I've told Alfred to just call me Bruce since I was like five, but he just _wouldn't_ listen. British butlers, you know how they are."  
   
Tony snorted, his mind going straight to Jarvis; the man who had been more than a butler to him until the day he died, much like this Alfred person was to Wayne, it seemed. Only his mother had died in that car crash, but Jarvis had been more of a father to him than Howard would have ever been. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe- just maybe the man beside him with the fake smile and deep eyes feel the same way.  
   
"You do _know_."  
   
Eyes all too-knowing watched him intently. "Of course I do. I have a TV." He said without missing a beat, or looking away from Wayne's face.  
   
"I wouldn't believe everything you watch on TV if I were you."  
   
"I'll take your word for it, Wayne."  
  
Wayne didn't say anything and neither did he, but he could feel the billionaire's gaze on him. Watching him as if he could see through him somehow; as if he could see everything Tony was trying to hide and more. The prospect most certainly shouldn't give him a fluttering sense of thrill.  
   
Tony cleared his throat, casually keeping his eyes from meeting Wayne's. "Well, I should get back to work."  
   
"Oh. Right, work." The playboy made a face. "I should go too."  
  
He stood there as Wayne started gathering papers in an organized pile before stuffing them into his briefcase. He had just pulled the briefcase close when a catchy tune started to play. Tony wasn't sure about the name of the song, but he definitely had heard it before, somewhere. So it must be a new hit from some popular artist.  
   
"I have to take this." Wayne said apologetically after taking out his smartphone and checking the screen. "Can you give Miss Potts my compliments and thanks, please?" The playboy lifted the phone to his ear without waiting for an answer, standing up before taking the briefcase and cup of coffee with his free hand.  
   
Tony heard him exchange pleasantries with whoever was at the other end of the line; his voice light and slightly louder than the voice he had been using while he talked with him.   
   
The billionaire paused after a couple of steps, turning his head to meet Tony's eyes. Tony held his gaze for just four or five seconds, blinking as Wayne flashed him a small, cryptic smile before turning around and walking away.  
   
Tony's gaze followed Wayne's retreating back until he reached the door, feeling his heart beating slightly faster than normal against his chest. He had _no fucking_ clue what that last look had been about, so there was no reason for him to be all worked up about it. Except he was, and he wasn't sure if this thing he was feeling was thrill or dread.  
   
Probably both.

* * *

Pepper hadn't asked what he had seen, or said anything more about Wayne when he came back to the counter, or the whole day for that matter, which had been a _surprise_. What hadn't been one was the fact that ten minutes after they had closed for the night, she had him pinned with hard green eyes, and a serious expression on her pretty face.  
   
"Do you know Bruce Wayne?"  
   
"We're talking about the man that walked in just this morning, right? The same man whose face is on the cover of at least one gossip magazine every week? _That_ Bruce Wayne?"  Tony retorted, a dark eyebrow arched in an open challenge behind his glasses.  
   
"I'm not asking you if you know of him _or_ about him. I'm asking if you know him."  
   
"Now, now, Pep. Why in the world would you ask such a silly question?"  
   
"Because that's the only way I can make sense of your irrational, childish behavior wherever he puts a foot in here." Pepper blurted out, arms crossed over her chest. "How can you dislike so much someone you don't even know?  
   
"Oh really? What about the fact he's a stupid weasel, running away from his _fucking responsibilities_ and hiding behind a mask like the coward he is."  
   
He saw Pepper flinch at his harsh tone but didn't care. He was on a roll here, damn it!    
   
"I don't think it's fair to think helping the city is his responsibility." Pepper's tone was quiet, --almost too quiet-- as if she were trying to soothe him. It just made him angrier somehow, even if he hadn't known he was angry in the first place or why.  
   
"Like hell it isn't. He's the fucking _prince_ of this _godforsaken_ city! He has the money, the power and influence to stop this damn city from crumbling to pieces. He's just too lazy and self centered to use them."  
   
"He might have all of that, but he's still one man. Besides, I don't think anyone has the right to demand anything from him after what this city did to him."  
   
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
   
"I know you aren't from Gotham, Tony, but I'm sure you know who were the Waynes and what happened to them."   
   
Tony snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth, because he not only knew about it; he remembered the Waynes' funeral, because _he_ had been there with his parents.  
   
He remembered the large group of people in expensive clothes hiding from the rain under elegant black umbrellas- him and his parents among them. He remembered the solemn and sad faces on everybody's faces as the coffins were lowered to the ground, and the chatting of banalities that surfaced not two minutes after the dirt had covered them: Women criticizing from the attire of other attendees to the care of the gardens in the Manor, and men speculating about the fate of the family company and talking business.  
   
But most of all, he remembered the small, solemn kid with deep, scary eyes who had been standing next to a man with white hair and a kind but weary and afflicted expression on his face. Wayne never left the butler's side, and the man's hand hadn't moved away from the kid's shoulder even for a second. Tony didn't remember seeing him cry even once in the time he had been there. He didn't even shed a tear as the coffins with his parents' bodies were buried.  
   
Tony remembered watching him with morbid curiosity and a genuine pang of sympathy, looking away the couple of times the Wayne heir had looked his way.   
   
He said nothing then, because he had nothing to say to Pepper. All the anger he had been feeling dissolved away, leaving him tired and confused. Because in the end, it turned out everything he said hadn't been about Bruce Wayne or Gotham. At all. But about Tony Stark.

Tony Stark and his fucked up life.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of previous chapters, you already know how _sorry_ I am for the long wait, so I'm not going to go there (except I already did, didn't' I?) Anyway, what I am going to say is that I'm _very _proud of this chapter, and I think it's safe to say it's my favorite so far.__
> 
> __When I first came up with the outline for this chapter, it was just an _okay _chapter. There were a couple of good moments, (important to keep the plot moving) with some snark and banter between Tony and Bruce but nothing so great. The whole last part wasn't planned, but the conversation between Pepper and Tony pretty much wrote itself, and then _Tony_ happened. *hugs him* But well, he finally admitted (at least to himself) the real reason why he dislikes Bruce so much. And I was also delighted to get the chance to add tiny bits of Tony's backstory, without it seeming forced. Or at least I hope it doesn't seemed that way.___ _
> 
> ____Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed and liked this chapter as much as I did._ _ _ _


	8. Where Tony's silence gives answer to Bruce's inquiries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I want to give a huge, _huge_ thank you to each and every one of the persons reading this. As of chapter seven, this fic reached 3,613 hits, 174 kudos, 143 subscribers, 86 comments and 34 bookmarks. All thanks to you. I know it may not seem like much considering there are fics that have at least twice the numbers of comments and kudos that this fic does. But it means so much to me you have no idea. And I want to tell you guys/gals how much I appreciate and cherish this. Truly. Thank you so much!

**+++**

He returned five days later. Except this time was _different._     
   
Unlike his previous visits made during the late morning and early afternoon, it was past ten p.m. when he arrived to the place this time. He also ditched the flashy and expensive late models attempting to look inconspicuous, and was driving a nondescript dark Ford he had bought a few months after his return, intended only for his nightly activities, back before Lucius had shown him the Tumbler.   
   
Bruce had parked a couple of blocks away from the already closed coffee shop, --only close enough to have a moderately good view of the place-- car largely shielded by the never ending shadows of Gotham city.   
   
This was not the first time he was back since his last visit, though. Not after the way his last conversation with Tony had gone. He had lurked around the place for the past five nights, looking for the right moment to approach. Meaning, a moment where the other man was left alone in the coffee shop.   
   
He knew better than anyone else the need to run and leave your life behind. So even if he was determined and eager to get the answers he was looking for, he wasn't going to jeopardize the other man's secret by simply storming in there in the middle of the day and speaking out loud without caring who else heard.

He wasn't even sure what Miss Potts involvement in this was or how much she knew, so approaching while she was close had not been an option either. And he couldn't very well drop by the other man's apartment, even if he knew where it was and the exact number. He was only an air-headed billionaire, after all.  
   
No that any of it mattered any longer. He had watched Miss Potts leave the coffee shop only fifteen minutes ago, finally allowing him a chance to act.  
   
Still, he waited, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel without taking his eyes away from the front of the coffee shop. The place still had a soft dim light inside, visible through the shutters at the windows and door. His cell phone rang in the silence of the car.  
   
"Alfred." He answered simply, having checked the caller's ID.  
   
"I have done as you requested, Master Bruce." Behind his words, Bruce could hear the oddly soft murmur of conversation from the people around Alfred, confirming the butler's words.  
   
"Did you find a good place to wait?"  
   
"It is acceptable, sir."  
   
"Good. Wait twenty minutes before coming and call once you're here."  
   
"I thank you for the reminder, Master Bruce. After all, you just called to tell me the details this evening." Bruce snorted, lips twitching upward ever so slightly. He had known Alfred for so long that he didn't need to see the older man's face to know the exact expression on his face right now. "Are you certain this is the way you should proceed, sir."  
   
Lips pressed together, Bruce turned his head to look through the window. His eyebrows were drawn together. "I need answers, Alfred."  
   
"Of course you do, sir." Alfred answered, a touch of fond exasperation in his voice. "I'm merely expressing my concern regarding if your chosen approach to obtain such answers is the best."  
   
"I though you said I should talk more to people."  
   
"I assure you, Master Bruce, in no moment was I suggesting you go in there and proceed to _interrogate_ the poor man."  
   
The corner of Bruce's lips twitched slightly. "Well, I'm open to any suggestions, Alfred. Unless you think getting a blood sample to analyze is better than simply going in and asking him point blank."  
   
"While I'm certain you have devised a fine plan to accomplish just that, Master Bruce, I must assure you it is not your chosen method I'm questioning, but rather the _success_ of it."  
   
"What do you mean?" Bruce questioned, darting his eyes back to the coffee shop.  
   
"Well sir, I believe your own unwillingness to share details about your whereabouts during your lengthy absence would lead you to consider that perhaps the lad might not be as further coming about sharing private information to a total stranger just because he's asked to do so."   
   
"It's not the same. I didn't create an airtight fake identity and settle into that life as if it were my own for years."  
   
"Of course not, sir. You merely infiltrate and formed part of several criminal organizations, going as far as ending up in jail due to the illicit activities you performed while in them. And of course you trained with a mysterious group of assassins in a monastery at the top of a mountain, which then you proceed to burn to ashes."  
   
"I was in jail once, and only because I let myself get caught. I could have escaped at any time, too."  
   
"Of course, sir. My mistake."  
   
Bruce snorted softly, turning to look through the window as a car drove by going in the opposite direction. The muted murmur of people's chatter at Alfred's end filled the comfortable silence they fall into.  
   
"You can relax, Alfred. I'm not planning to hang him from the edge of a building until he tells me what I want to know. You have my word."  
   
"That is a relief, sir. I feared it would have been extremely difficult to explain Bruce Wayne using such methods."  
   
"Of course," Bruce said dryly. "Besides, I don't need a verbal answer from him. His simple reaction when I ask will suffice."  
   
"Will it now, sir." Alfred pronounced archly. "Is it not possible that, perhaps, a confirmation of your suspicions would merely _increase_ your interest in that man and his private life."  
   
Bruce said nothing to that. He was unwilling to acknowledge the truth in Alfred's words, even if they both know the butler was right. He always was. Bruce hadn't let himself think about what would happen after tonight's confrontation --no matter the outcome-- and he wasn't going to start now.  
   
He cleared his throat. "I need to go in."  
   
"Of course. Good luck, sir."  
   
"Thanks, Alfred." Bruce said. "See you soon."  
   
He stuffed his smartphone back into the breast pocket of his jacket only to slump in his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face. His patrol hours had been pushed back for almost a week now just so he could be here, and now that the opportunity for him to finally act had presented he couldn't simply leave. It wasn't an option.  
   
With a sigh he turned on the engine of the car, driving three blocks pass the coffee shop and then turning it off again. He climbed out of the car before he could start thinking too much again, and started walking back to the coffee shop. He stopped only a couple of feet away from the door, taking a moment to relax his stance and school his features into the already familiar Bruce Wayne mask; with its vapid smile and shallow gaze. Without further delay he came to stand in front of the glass door and knocked.  
   
Hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, Bruce saw the man's figure walking toward him through the semi-transparent steel roller shutter at the door. He lifted a hand to wave, his smile widening as the man paused at the other side, a flash of surprise crossing his face as soon as he saw him up close. It was quickly replaced by caution and narrowed eyes as he saw Tony contemplated whether to open the door or not.  
   
He did pull open the door, though only wide enough to stand between the gap and without an invitation for him to step in. Not that Bruce had been expecting one.  
   
"Wayne."  
   
"Hi."  
   
"We're closed already, in case you hadn't noticed."  
   
"Oh! I did notice, but I'm not here to buy coffee. I was actually on my way home when my car broke down over there." Bruce waved his hand in the direction where he had parked the car. The darkness and distance did a good job of hiding any features of the car; making it impossible to notice it wasn't one of his usual fancy cars.  
   
Tony looked to where Bruce was pointing and then back at him, an eyebrow arched behind his glasses. "Okay. But see, _this_ is a coffee shop not a mechanical workshop. You're supposed to call a tow truck or something."  
   
"Don't worry I already called Alfred to take care of things." Bruce said with a dismissive wave of his hand.  
   
Both of the man's eyebrows were lifted this time. "You called your butler?"   
   
"Of course. I haven't the slightest idea of who I was supposed to call exactly and it's not like I had the phone number with me anyway. Besides, I'm going to need a ride back to the Manor."   
   
"Right. So you have things under control- or your butler does. What do you want then?"  
   
"Well, I've been sitting in my car waiting for Alfred to arrive for a little while now and I got _sooo_ bored you wouldn't believe it. But then I remembered the coffee shop was very close, and seeing the lights still on I though maybe I could come here and ask if you'll mind letting me wait inside until Alfred gets here."  
   
"Alright, you can come in." Tony said after a long moment of silence, a clear touch of reluctance in his face. "But only until I finish here. If your butler hasn't arrived by then you're going to go back to wait in your car."  
   
Bruce snapped his mouth shut with a soft click, forcing a hasty facile smile on his face. After their previous encounters he hadn't been expecting the other man to agree so easily. In fact, he had used the countless hours spent outside the coffee shop those past nights to think of several ways to work around an initial refusal from Tony's part. This was ... _unexpected_.  
   
Without a word, Tony stepped aside to allow Bruce entrance into the coffee shop. The strong, rich smell of freshly brewed coffee was gone, but he was still able to detected the faint lingering smell of coffee. The chairs had been placed on top of the wooden tables and the lights above them were turned off; the only light in the place coming from the semicircular pendant lamps over the counter.   
   
"You can pull down a chair by yourself, right?" Tony said sardonically after turning around. He walked past him and further inside without waiting for an answer, moving behind the light-colored plywood counter.  
   
Bruce was slightly amused though not really surprised when the other man then proceed to ignore him; busying himself cleaning the espresso machine- or at least it looked to Bruce like he was doing that. Shoving his hands into his pockets again, Bruce proceeded to take advantage of the lack of customers to look around more carefully, in spite of the low light and untidy look of the closed place.  
   
The minimalist look was a comforting mix of modern and traditional decor, undoubtedly adopted after Miss Potts took over the family coffee shop. It gave a fresh look to the place without altering it beyond recognition.   
   
Bruce's eyes were drawn to the large map covering more than half of the pale wall to his left, like they had the first time he had come inside. The outline of the map was very faintly painted, (almost fully unseen) with light blue ink, and inside of it, written with dark peacock blue ink and clean, bold lettering was the word 'coffee' in different languages and sizes. it was artfully done. Beautiful.

The opposite wall was painted in the same light color, but had a couple of pieces of old artwork decorating it instead.  
   
His dark loafers were silent against the stripped floorboards as he slowly walked through the narrow hallway between the tables. Unlike the others, the wall behind the counter was painted in a peacock blue tone, like the lettering of the map. The black chalkboard on the wall had been wiped clean, ready for tomorrow's specials to be written in black and blue chalk.  
   
When he finally reached the counter, he made no attempts to pull down one of the chairs, like the other man had suggested. He was tired of sitting down the whole day; either in the cave, the study in the Manor or the car. Tony had his back to him, and from a cardboard box placed at his side was pulling out bags of different kind of coffee beans to place in the large shelves.  
   
Bruce propped his elbows up on the counter, hands clasped together in front of him as he watched him work in silence for a few minutes. The momentary tautness in the set of his shoulders the only indication the other man noticed the attention.  
   
"Have you worked here long?" The question had been prompted by honest curiosity rather than the cynical part of his brain that only care for solving puzzles and mysteries. It earned him nothing but a flicker of brown eyes.  
   
"A while."  
   
They lapsed into silence once more.  
   
With the coffee bags now displayed on a few of the top shelves besides some porcelain mugs, Tony took the now empty cardboard box and was about to head to the back room when Bruce halted him.  
   
"Do you remember when I first came in here? I told you you looked familiar." Tony didn't turn to face him even then, allowing Bruce to see only the side of his face. "I think I know why."  
   
He grunted in response; a faint, small sound barely audible even in the silence of the empty place. It was not a sign of interest, but something to fill the silence.  
   
"You're Tony Stark."  
   
Bruce had not been expecting a strong reaction, and he wasn't disappointed. He noticed the exact moment Tony tensed; his entire body going rigid only to relax almost instantly. He also caught a glimpse of the tightening of muscles on what little he could see of his face, but only because he had been looking for it.  
   
"Who?" Tony said without turning fully to face him, the expression on his face puzzled with a carefully added touch of amusement. The cardboard box against his chest held like a shield in front of him.   
   
"Tony Stark. The missing son of Howard Stark, owner of Stark Industries." Bruce didn't miss the smallest twitch on Tony's face at the mention of the second name. He wasn't meeting his eyes.  
   
"You honestly _think_ I'm the son of some rich dude."  
   
"I do, yes."  
   
"That makes no sense. You know that, right? I mean, why would a millionaire be here instead of being, I don't know, on some private island somewhere doing nothing but downing martinis or whatever it is millionaires do."   
   
Bruce said nothing for a moment, watching him. His condescending and dry tone was making Bruce's assertion sound ludicrous- and maybe for most people it could be, but he wasn't most people. He was a billionaire too and like Alfred had pointed out, he had willingly spent years among criminals, and had even remained in a prison for six months in the middle of nowhere even though he could have escaped at any given moment or simply called home; letting his money and name get him out of there.  
   
But, in spite of the other man's clear efforts to discredit his statement, he was yet to express a _direct denial_. In no moment had he stated 'I'm not Tony Stark', but instead had played with the words Bruce had said; implying answers instead of denying Bruce's claims.  
   
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"  
   
Tony sighed dramatically, head tilted to the side. "Did you even listen to a word I said?"  
   
"I did."  
   
Bruce held the other man's gaze, taking in the pursed lips and unblinking stare. He was even able to catch a fleeting glimpse of something that looked like resignation in the man's brown eyes, and yet, he was almost sure he wasn't going to admit to being Tony Stark.   
   
Tony opened his mouth to say something else but was stopped by the ringing of Bruce's smartphone. He pulled it out with an apologetic look.  
   
"Hello? Oh, hey Alfred. You're here already? That was fast." He didn't have to pretend to be surprised. "Oh. Right. Can you see the coffee shop on the other side of the street? The one you drove me to the other day? Uh-huh. Yes, I am. Okay, I'll be right out."  
   
"Alfred is outside, so it's time for me to go." Bruce said pocketing his smartphone. "I guess we'll be talking later, Mr. Stark."  
   
Bruce waited. He waited for Tony to burst out laughing. Waited for him to roll his eyes as he declared he wasn't Tony Stark, only to then proceed to say in not so many words how idiot he thought he was for even thinking that.  
   
None of it happened.  
   
Tony stood motionless behind the counter, unblinking eyes meeting Bruce's own without a word and an unreadable expression on his face. Bruce gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth twitching in a faint fleeting smile. The other man's silence was his answer.  
   
Bruce turned around and walked toward the exit. He didn't look back as he reached the door and pulled it open.   
   
The cold breeze hit his skin as soon as he stepped outside, making him shiver and pull jacket tighter around his body. As he walked toward the Rolls Royce parked behind his car, he tried to ignore the little voice in his head asking dryly if he was satisfied now.

It sounded uncannily like Alfred's.

**+++**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start --like I seem to do everytime I post a new chapter-- by apologizing for taking so long to update. The only excuses I have are the ones I already gave you before, which are my procrastinating nature and short attention span when writing. And of course, this time there's the fact this was the chapter of the big reveal (finally!) and so I had to do a lot of tweaking and rewriting all over it until it ended... aceptable. Or at least I hope so!
> 
> Anyway, so far, I had been working with a rather general layout of the coffee shop, but as you can see by the details added in this chapter, I finally did my research and spent hours watching pictures of coffee shop to fully recreate this one in my head. I kind of liked it. What do you think?
> 
> if you're still sticking up with me through all of this thank you, and I would love to hear what you think so far!


End file.
